


StockHOLMES Syndrome

by MissErikaCourt



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissErikaCourt/pseuds/MissErikaCourt
Summary: She couldn't remember exactly how long it had been since she first arrived here. 'Arrived' was the wrong word, perhaps it should be that she couldn't remember how long it had been since he first brought her here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I really like this or not, but I thought I would post it anyway. I got inspired by a few things really, but mostly just the idea of what it would be like if Sherlock were just evil. The story also reminded me of the relationship between Harley Quinn and The Joker (and not the Suicide Squad versions because I've heard they're just bad and not true to character). So I hope you at least enjoy it a little, and I hope you don't hate me too much for making Sherlock evil. Also, I don't apologize for the extremely punny title.

She couldn't remember exactly how long it had been since she first arrived here. 'Arrived' was the wrong word, perhaps it should be that she couldn't remember how long it had been since he first brought her here. At first it was horrible, she was scared and confused, but mostly she was worried about what he would do to her. Now, though...now it's completely different. How she had ever thought that he could hurt her was beyond her. It was quite evident that he loved her, if truth be told, and she couldn't help but feel the same for him. Those dark curls, high cheekbones, and absolutely beautiful blue-green eyes were a combination that she could not resist. She would do anything he asked of her now, anything at all.

She'd been waiting for him to come home nearly all day, and although she was confined to a small room while he was away, she was always happy to see him when he got back. He was probably off working on a case, at least that's what he called it. In all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure what he did when he left the flat. She couldn't bring herself to question what he told her. If she did that he would probably hurt her again, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him angry. Because, as stunningly beautiful as that man is, he's also terrifying when he's angry. He'd struck her more than a few times in the past, but she'd learned her lesson, and she'd known that she was wrong for what she'd done.

“Where in the world could he be? He's usually home by now.” She said to herself as she paced the floor, peering out the window and down onto the busy London street. When she saw him step out of the cab and flip up his collar to guard himself from the rain, she felt her heart jump. She knew that, in a moment, he'd be coming through the door to the bedroom that they shared to greet her. She heard the lock on the door turn and could hardly contain her excitement.

“Sherlock!” She shouted, and ran over to embrace him, but she was only pushed hard to the side, hitting the wall with quite a bit of force.

“Not now, Molly.” He said, his eyes dark with anger.

“Are...are you okay?” She asked quietly, gently rubbing her shoulder to ease the pain caused by hitting the wall.

“I don't want to talk about it.” He snapped, tossing his coat to the side and flinging his scarf onto the bedside table.

“I just want to help.” She said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. She knew she had to tread carefully now. If she said anything that he didn't like, anything at all, she would severely regret it.

“What could you possibly do to help me? You're not good for anything other than cleaning up the flat and a good fuck once in a while.” He practically barked at her as he flung himself onto the bed, covering his face with one arm.

“Well, if I can't help with your actual problem, perhaps I can help with one of the things I'm good at?” She said, easing toward the bed and sitting down on the edge. As he pulled her closer, tugging at her clothes without saying another word, she was happy she could at least do this for him. She knew deep down that he loved her, why else would he have kept her here for so long, after all? All she had to do was wait for him to admit it. He grabbed her neck with a vice like grip and slammed her to the mattress, before he knelt down to whisper in her ear.

“Molly Hooper, you're mine, do you understand? My little plaything.”

“Yes.” She practically moaned. She'd learned to like his roughness. It took a while to get used to at first, but if she concentrated on something else she could almost forget that he was choking her to the point that she could barely breathe. He usually let go of her before oxygen deprivation stole her consciousness.

“Kidnapping you was perhaps the best thing I've ever done, now that you've learned to behave. Now, just relax and enjoy the ride.”

 


End file.
